


Let's Take a Stand

by dreamlittleyo



Series: AlexandStar HamilTrek (Oneshots) [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Angst, Court Martial, M/M, Protectiveness, Rank Disparity, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: A series of unrelated one-shots based on TOS episodes.This installment:Court Martial. In which Washington's fitness to command is questioned, and Hamilton is furious on his captain's behalf.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Series: AlexandStar HamilTrek (Oneshots) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1051568
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	Let's Take a Stand

"You can't step down," Hamilton announces the second the door hisses shut behind him. He was careful—made sure Commodore Stone wouldn't see him in the station corridor—but he didn't dare wait for his captain to return to the Nelson. There are too many unknowns. Too many varied and awful ways things could play out.

Washington's face is implacable as always, but he arches one thick eyebrow so high his forehead crinkles. "Eavesdropping under present circumstances could get you in a great deal of trouble, Lieutenant."

Hamilton scowls. "I wasn't eavesdropping." He didn't need to. He was there in Washington's quarters when the first communique arrived this morning—the Nelson hasn't even been in port a full day—and he has gleaned all the bits and pieces he needs to assemble the puzzle. He knows this is about Charles Lee and the accident. He's had a nauseous feeling in his stomach all day.

"I suppose even you wouldn't be quite so brazen as to hack into a starbase comm system just to satisfy your own curiosity."

The scowl on Hamilton's face deepens. "You can't step down," he repeats.

"And how do you know that's what the commodore wants me to do?" Washington asks, as though his accusation of eavesdropping didn't confirm Hamilton's assumption. His tone is deliberately light, but Hamilton easily reads the tension behind his eyes, stiffness in broad shoulders. Washington is anxious, maybe even scared. It's as disconcerting a sight now as the few other times Hamilton has witnessed the same subtle signs in his captain. He aches to make this right, but the situation is far beyond his influence.

He should not even be on Starbase Eleven now, but he couldn't bear to stare away.

"No starship captain has ever stood trial in the history of Starfleet," Hamilton answers, even though the question was barely better than rhetorical. "They won't have to court martial you if they can make the problem disappear some other way. If you resign your commission they can sweep the whole thing under the rug."

"You think I should fight."

"Of course you should fight!" Hamilton's voice rises, sharp and pleading. "You did nothing wrong!"

"You weren't there," Washington says, and the words are so soft they stop Hamilton in his tracks.

It takes him several seconds to recover himself enough to retort, "I should've been." If he had been on the bridge that day, he could be a witness. He is intensely and perpetually aware of Washington at all times. Even in the midst of a crisis mounting from yellow alert to red, this would have been true. And if he'd heard for himself the moment Washington gave the order to sacrifice the survey pod—with Lieutenant Commander Charles Lee still inside—he could testify that the action was necessary. That the timing was appropriate.

He knows with his entire heart that his captain would never have jettisoned the pod while any scrap of hope remained. It's unfathomable to consider that Washington may have given the order before the ship reached red alert. If Hamilton had been there, he would be one more voice to help prove it.

"No." Washington shakes his head. "You should have been _exactly where you were_ , assisting Church on the lower decks. Besides, your word is just as useless as mine when it comes to contradicting the computer. Humans can lie. Especially humans with a vested emotional interest in an outcome."

"But you're _not_ lying."

"That does not matter at present."

Hamilton closes his eyes for several heartbeats, forcing himself to draw a slow breath. He feels unmoored and unsteady. Lightyears away from the relative peace of Washington's bed, where he woke only a few short hours ago. Washington is right, of course. Even if he'd been on the bridge to hear the order that led to Lee's death, he would not be a reliable witness as far as a military tribunal is concerned.

Any devoted officer would want to protect his captain. And Hamilton's attachment makes him more devoted than most. The romantic nature of their relationship is an open secret among the crew. If Hamilton were to be called before an official inquiry, there's no way their entanglement would escape scrutiny.

At last he blinks and peers up into Washington's face. "What terms did the commodore offer you?"

Washington's mouth quirks at one corner, in an expression that could have been a smile under better circumstances. The grimace is self-deprecating though, and it makes Hamilton's chest hurt.

"There will be a permanent ground assignment waiting for me if I step down as captain. I don't have to resign my commission. Merely acknowledge that I am unfit for command and return to Earth in disgrace."

"You're _not_ unfit for command," Hamilton growls.

"I agree." At least Washington sounds sincere. Confident. Hamilton would not blame the man for being shaken, but he seems as sure and stolid as ever.

"And if you don't agree to his terms, what then? The whole disciplinary weight of Starfleet Command lands on your neck?" Hamilton takes a step closer, then another, until he is near enough to touch, but he keeps his arms at his sides for the moment. It's not propriety staying his hand. He's not sure why he holds back, beyond the rigid way Washington is holding himself, and how it makes Hamilton's skin prickle.

"Yes," Washington says. "Commodore Stone has made it clear he's prepared to draw a general court."

"You have to fight." Fire is coiling all along Hamilton's insides. Incandescent rage ignites at the injustice of the situation. Washington is an exemplary captain. He deserves better than this.

"I intend to," Washington says, and the belated confirmation knocks all the air out of Hamilton's lungs in a rush.

" _Fuck_ , why didn't you say so in the first place?" He tips forward, setting his hands at Washington's waist and resting his forehead on Washington's sternum.

"I wanted your unencumbered thoughts," Washington says, low and apologetic. He sets his big hands on Hamilton's shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of his head. "But I have no intention of letting them ground me. I demanded Commodore Stone call his court immediately. Either the computer is wrong or I am, but I'm entitled to a trial."

"You'll win," Hamilton vows, more mandate than observation. "The computer logs _are_ wrong." 

"Yes." Washington frames Hamilton's face between strong hands, nudging him up to make eye contact, holding him there with earnest intensity. "I don't know how, but they must be. And I promise I will do everything in my power to prove it."


End file.
